Thursday, March 3, 2011

Joy

It is dusk outside. I can see the darkening warm blue of the sky through the brown-black branches of the trees outside my kitchen window. It is this picture that pulls me into a reverie, as the Enya song "watermark" starts playing in my head.

The girls have come in from playing outside, their cheeks pink. At my request they take on the task of going back outside to put away the bikes, but they come back in to tell me that they can't reach the garage door. That's okay, I say, Daddy will be home in a few minutes and he can do it.

I feel joy knowing that my husband will be home in a few minutes. I call to check where he is, and he says he is around the corner. I grin, looking forward to a quiet evening: no exercise class, no meetings, no elaborate preparations for the day tomorrow. Just the usual.

The girls come back in, and agree to another task of taking their shoes outside to clap them together to clean them and then put them in their room. I don't expect that they will make it into their rightful place in their closet, but that's fine. They are still little and I am pleased that they are keeping busy with meaningful work that makes our family's home look nicer.

The kitchen is steamy with the pasta and I can smell the chicken re-heating in the oven. I am thankful for "steam in the bag" vegetables.

A squabble erupts but it is quickly calmed with a distraction. I remember the poopy underwe@r in the basement toilet and make a mental note to finish rinsing them out later. Even that does not temper my feeling of contentment.

I wonder what I have done in my past life to deserve such goodness. I give thanks that I find such contentment, such joy in the everyday things. I give thanks for the luck that I've had and the good decisions I've made. I give thanks for my health, the health of my husband, and my children.

But most of all, I just offer up prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude.